Thought vs Program
by Equalata
Summary: Black Ghost unleashes the latest sinister plot to rein in the rebel 00 cyborgs. They must operate as a team more than ever, but when their own leader attempts to destroy them, what can they do? Rated T for violence later on. All characters will be covered, but some have a larger part to play.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Hello, welcome to the first chapter of 'Thought vs Program'! This is the first story I've had the nerve to publish, and it'll be a long-ish one. Most of it is already written, and I hope to update regularly (hope, not promise, being the word). Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: Cyborg 009 and anything you may recognise was not created by me.

Dusk saw most of the 00 cyborgs in the cockpit of the Dolphin, deep in the Pacific Ocean on a meandering course with no destination in mind.

'What is it, 002?' Albert demanded for the hundredth time. 'What is so horrible that _you_ can't even tell us?'

The older cyborg had his hands on the console, leaning over Jet menacingly. There was a time, Jet reflected, when he might have volunteered information – but any demand for it invoked a rebellious streak that kept his mouth stubbornly shut.

Albert shook his head and straightened. 'Look, I'm sorry,' he said quietly. The absence of any kind of smug tone brought Jet's eyes up to meet his. 'I just think we could all help 009 past this experience if we know all the details.' He paused, seeming to consider his words carefully. 'And I think you could benefit from talking about it too, 002.'

Jet knew it was his uncharacteristic silence that was drawing concern from all members of the group during the time since Joe's rescue. For days they'd been dancing around him, offering support – except for Ivan, who was asleep. Gilmore was still working on repairs on the extensively damaged 009. Since the doctor had finished fixing his own injuries, Jet had seen neither hide nor hair of Gilmore. Francoise had been alternating between helping Gilmore, having her own teary 'alone time' and trying to coax Jet to talk about the rescue. They'd all been there when he'd carried out the body, but the others were leaving the talking to Albert, who had been trying for days to get Jet out of his shock.

'It's his business,' he muttered in response to Albert's comment. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the other occupants of the cockpit, Pyunma and Geronimo, straighten ever so slightly.

Albert leaned back. 'It's all of our business, 002. We're a team – a family. And it's hurting us to see you tearing yourself up inside.'

Jet felt his ears grow hot – well, hotter than usual. Give him a good, straightforward battle any day. This internal struggle of emotions, of _feelings_...it was all too confusing and unfamiliar.

He'd been silent for too long. 'I'm fine,' he stated firmly. 'Let's just wait for 009 to wake up, all right?' He clenched his shaking hands together.

'When he wakes up, he's going to need us as a solid family,' Albert persisted. 'Seeing you torn like this is only going to worry him.'

Well, Jet thought, he did try to avert the fight he so desperately wanted. It wasn't his fault Albert was just stubborn. _He's damn well asking for it._ 'What would you know about it, Heinrich?' snapped Jet, rising to his feet. Albert straightened to mirror him.

'I know nothing, because the only one who does is keeping his mouth shut.' He leaned forward again. 'Jet,' he said in a low voice, 'please. You don't bottle things up like this. Just let it out.'

Oh, Jet would let it out, all right. Yet his angry shout was choked up in his throat. Albert was trying to be nice – there was no smugness or condescension to rail at, just a curiosity and heartfelt concern that was way too much like Joe, and the guilt and horror seemed to bubble up in his throat.

He slammed his fists onto the console in frustration. Albert was right – he needed to get this out, needed to fight something – someone. But while everyone was being so careful and considerate, he just couldn't do it.

As if the German could read his thoughts, he nodded and spoke again: 'Since when do you care about anything so much?'

His sudden change of tone made Jet start and look up. The smug smile was back. Albert's arms were crossed in the way that always grated on Jet's nerves. All traces of heartfelt concern were gone – Albert had just projected every annoying little thing that Jet hated.

Jet quickly decided that it didn't matter whether Albert could read minds (unlikely), was unaware of what he was doing (also unlikely), or simply knew what Jet needed right now (very likely). The confusing array of emotions squirming inside of Jet wouldn't let him rest until he'd let them out in the form of anger, and if Albert was willing to be the target, then Jet would thank him later. Maybe.

'What did you say?' said Jet. He saw Albert subtly wave down Pyunma and Geronimo, who had risen at the change in Jet's voice. _Manipulative bastard._

'I said, since when do you care enough about something to keep it to yourself? You're normally so well-spoken.'

'What are you, my nanny? Lay off!'

'You think I'd be talking to you if 009 were up? Getting anything from you is like drawing blood from steel.'

'You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Heinrich?'

For a moment Jet feared he'd gone too far, but Albert's infuriating smile only widened. 'Why don't you tell us, 002? Tell us about the fight you were in. I didn't see you in our fight – where'd you go?'

'You wouldn't've got half of the fucking way down there!'

'What did you do, swear at them?'

'Fuck you! I _can_ fight, you know – '

Albert smirked. 'You seem to be better at moping at the moment.'

Half a second later Albert ducked the right hook Jet aimed at his smug face.

'002!' Pyunma was halfway out of his chair before Albert waved him back down.

'It'sokay, 008,' said Albert. 'Small hope that 002 would be able to form the words without his fists...'

'What, like you?' Jet lunged again, but the cooler-headed German merely sidestepped and hooked his leg around Jet's ankle.

Jet screamed in frustration as he went down, and shouted obscenities at Albert while trying to get out from beneath the other's knee planted on his chest. Albert, made of more steel and iron and less flesh, was too heavy – short of activating his flight system (which even his his fury-ridden mind, Jet knew was a bad idea in the Dolphin's bridge), there wasn't much he could do except squirm.

Albert grabbed his shoulders. 'Jet,' he growled, 'just let it out. _What happened?_'

At the sound of his name Jet stilled. Albert's face was inches above his nose. His breath slowed. Albert's expression was furious – Jet wondered, now, if his own had been the same, if this was what Joe had seen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Woo hoo, second chapter! I won't do this individually every time, but a warm thank you to CyborgMelody for my first review ever. SUPER exciting.

I'll stick with the UK/Aus spelling I prefer, if I'm allowed to do so. I _realise_ that there are red lines under the words, but I'll argue with the _colours_ for now!

Edited for breaks!

**Disclaimer: **Nothing you recognise belongs to me.

Onward we go! Please enjoy.

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The nine cyborgs gathered on the beach. Before them, a tropical jungle sprouted about twenty metres from the water. On their left a sheer cliff cut into the water and formed a natural barrier preventing any trekking to the north for what looked like miles before the wall sloped to become a mountain covered in foresty jungle, far in the distance. To their right, the beach wound its way towards the south.

'We should find a better place to defend ourselves,' Pyunma commented. 'I'm glad we were able to hide the _Dolphin_, though.'

'Remember, the distress signal could be from rebels like yourselves, or Black Ghost agents looking for us,' said Professor Gilmore's voice in their communicators. 'Either way, be careful.'

They began walking towards the jungle, all on high alert. The waves made the loudest noise on the island. Francoise shook her head, a frown on her face.

'It's strange,' she said softly. 'I can't hear any wildlife. No birds, nothing.'

Jet grunted. 'This whole thing smells like a trap. I'm as restless as the next cyborg, but why do we let ourselves be drawn into these things?'

'Because we can take it.' As always, Geronimo's voice was like a blanket over rising doubts. 'There is always a chance the distress call was from another unwilling cyborg, like us. That chance is worth the risk.'

With another 'Hmph!' Jet let the spark of his explosive fury dim. Not die – the embers of anger were always there – just dim.

Joe and Pyunma, in the lead with Francoise and Ivan, had to split into single file to get through the thick foliage. Behind him Jet heard a _pop_ and quickly ducked when a nimble monkey swung on long arms past his head. Great Britain turned his hairy head and grinned at him.

'Watch it!' Jet scowled.

'Quiet!' Joe whispered from the front.

Jet straightened from his crouch, bumping his head on a low tree bough. 'How are they not gonna notice we're here? We're in fire engine red and making as much noise going through this jungle as rush hour back in New York!'

Joe and Pyunma exchanged glances. Pyunma shrugged. 'It's true, right 003?'

She nodded, and Joe sighed. 'We need to get to higher ground. Any suggest...'

Jet didn't hear the rest. It was much easier to see the island from five hundred feet.

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Albert knew what the telltale smirk on Jet's face meant, and turned his face away a second before the blast of flames from Jet's feet could cook his nose. Luckily it had been Chang, the most fireproof of them all, who caught the brunt of the blast, but that didn't stop the chef from cursing the short-tempered American until Francoise's ears turned red.

'Nice of you to tell us your plan before toasting us,' Albert said aloud, activating his internal transmitter to communicate to Jet as well.

_'Someone's got to keep you on your toes, old man,'_ Jet's voice replied smoothly. _'If you head south-east the going'll be a bit easier in about twenty metres.'_

'002, can you see any higher ground for a good attack position?' asked Pyunma as they all fought the branches and vines to get through.

_'Scouting now. Stand by.'_

There was a distant roar above them, which became softer as Jet left. Albert shook his head to himself, wondering that Jet could switch his language from crass to military in the blink of an eye.

Ahead, Francoise was struggling to keep sticky vines from Ivan. Albert touched her shoulder and, with a smile, sliced the vines to ribbons with the blade of his left hand.

'Thank you, 004,' she smiled back.

Albert took the lead and began cutting a path for the rest to follow. '001, you could do this easily,' he grunted. 'Don't tell me you think the situation's going to be so bad that you're saving all of your capital energy to rescue us all in a couple of hours...'

_If we get home without my using any abilities, _came Ivan's voice in his head, _I'll make you as many jungle paths as you like, 004._

Behind him, Francoise giggled. Albert could picture Joe behind him, eyes closed, trying not to laugh.

'_Smooth, 001,' _he sent privately to Ivan. _'You've been inside 002's head for too long.'_

The baby was quick to reply: _002's head is where no-one wants to be for long at all, 004. Let's just say I'm surprised you haven't figured that out yet. _

Albert was stumped as to what that meant and was about to demand clarification when he nearly pitched forward. Joe's hands on his shoulders stopped him; he'd been so distracted that he hadn't noticed that the trees had thinned and he was about to slice into thin air.

A thin roar welcomed them. '002, report,' Joe said.

_'Head east from now, the ground'll slope up and take you to a ridge. Don't head any further north than due east, or you'll arrive under the ridge instead of on top of it, and I'll have to lift you up. As fun as that sounds...'_

'We get it, 002,' grinned Joe.

'No need to give us details,' added Albert.

High above where they were walking, Albert thought he saw Jet shrug. _'I can't see any sign of a communications tower around here, though. If this is the place, they're well hidd – __**shit!**__''_

Albert had a split second's warning before the air seemed to shimmer. All of a sudden they were surrounded by armour. Albert looked up through hazy eyes at a metal figure, ten feet high, levelling a six-foot gun at his head.

A metallic whine – a deafening bang – and Joe was standing on the metal giant's twisted body.

Joe raised his head. Albert knew his own battle-ready stance was reflected by the other cyborgs behind him, but in that split second before chaos erupted, Albert saw the Prototype 009 Black Ghost had built.

'Scatter!' barked Joe.

It wasn't as if he'd never seen it before, Albert thought as he knelt and launched a missile at the thickest concentration of robots. All of them had the battle-smarts to some degree – he recognised the cold analysis of data and execution of actions within his own body – but seeing them just about take control of Joe like that...well, it made Albert glad he wasn't 009's enemy.

Even if he was only a first-generation model. His arm was already aching from the recoil. He set to dispatching about twenty robots while Chang fried more at his back.

_'004! 006! Can you lighten things up here from where you are?'_ came Pyunma's voice in his head. Albert glanced up. Pyunma, Geronimo and Francoise with Ivan had grouped on the rocks that Jet earlier had recommended as their path to higher ground. As one he and Chang turned and sent an assault through the fifty metres at the group of giant robots attempting to crush them.

_'Thanks!'_ sent Pyunma. _'Let's all try to – 004! Behind you!'_

How could a robot that size creep up on him like that? Albert and Chang jumped clear just in time to avoid the giant mallet, but landed in the midst of another group of destroyers on wheels. Albert growled and knelt. His left knee unhinged – but a crash to his head sent him flying past Chang and into the arms of a giant robot. He held his right arm ready, but for a second couldn't tell where the enemy was...and then he crashed into the ground while a massive weight pressed down on his back.

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TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Thank you for the response :)  
I should have added a 'Three Months Earlier' to the beginning of the previous chapter. It'll become evident that this part is more of a recall on Jet's part, anyway, as it goes. This primary battle goes for some time, but it was terribly fun to write - the deeper stuff will start around chapter 5.

I loved the episode 'Pharaoh's Curse' where 003...did something! That's the 003 I had in mind when this chapter was written.

I do apologise for the cliffhanger at the end of that last chapter, that was cruel, please forgive me. I nearly put up the next part straight away, but ended up having to do some rearranging anyway...oh, never mind, let's just get on with the story!

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise is mine.

CHAPTER 3

Pyunma knew that he, Geronimo, Francoise and Ivan had been pushed by the sheer numbers of robots to the best defendable spot – they had the high ground of the overhang, and land-based robots could only climb up the narrow path in small groups. The trouble, he thought as he dispatched a whole group of them with his blaster's needle mode, was that for every robot destroyed, two more seemed to take its place.

A shadow fell across him. Pyunma looked up to see the base of a giant metal foot, but before he could raise his blaster, Geronimo leaped in front of him and grasped the foot's toe. With a roar, Geronimo lifted the giant robot, swung it over his head, and hurled it to the oncoming robots. It hit them with a _crash_, and continued on a path of destruction down the slope to the west.

'Good work, 005,' said Pyunma. 'That gives us a small break. Where are the others?'

'I can't raise them on the long-range transmitter,' Francoise said, holding a hand by her ear. 'And 001's awake, but...he's not saying anything!'

Pyunma took a closer look at Ivan. His tiny fists were clenched, and he was trembling ever so slightly.

'Something must be interfering with his telepathy,' said Geronimo, after placing a hand on Ivan's head.

'It might be another cyborg, or a transmitter of some kind,' Pyunma thought aloud. '003, can you tune in to the psychic waves?'

She frowned. 'No...but there might be electromagnetic interference, or some other kind of energy as well as psychic...' Her eyes unfocused slightly as she looked hard at Ivan. Pyunma glanced at the slope to see robots heading their way. They didn't have much time.

'I see it!' Francoise gasped. 'A transportable tower, about two miles north.'

Ivan raised a tiny fist.

Pyunma nodded. 'Let's go.'

'Wait.' Geronimo's voice was steady. 'We can't all go. The others will be trying to reach this point. When they get here...'

'I'll go,' said Francoise. 'I can avoid detection easily.'

'Are you sure?' Pyunma asked.

She nodded. 'We must destroy the tower as soon as possible. Any fighting on the way will delay the mission. Once it's destroyed, we'll be able to communicate with the others and 001 again, and work as a team.'

'All right, 003,' Pyunma said.

Geronimo put a hand on her shoulders briefly, then turned to the oncoming robot front. Francoise bundled Ivan close to her chest and turned to Pyunma.

'Good luck,' was all he could say. She nodded again. He turned away before he could see her jump off the overhang and disappear into the jungle below. Pyunma didn't like sending a woman and a baby into battle alone, but he reminded himself that that wasn't all they were. Francoise was handy with a gun, and aware of the risks. Once the tower was down, it'd be over. He hoped.

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Jet wasn't sure where all the robots came from, but he set himself the task of merely dispatching the ones in the air. At first it went well – there were so many, how could he miss? But after a while the robots began avoiding his blaster, and shooting back.

Jet hated robots. Sure, they were fun to shoot at – but when there were so many, and learning ones too, Jet had to admit he wondered whether being a cyborg was all it should have cracked up to be. He couldn't help but think, as he watched some of them copy the 'handbrake turn' he'd executed a second ago, that these robots were learning off of him.

Either way, he was outnumbered in the sky. He quit trying to attack and made a beeline for the ground, searching for a sign of red and yellow in the mess of silvery exploding shrapnel down below. Jet didn't like what he saw. _How did they separate us so fast?_ On the rocks Pyunma, Francoise and Geronimo were making a valiant effort, but were slowly being driven towards the edge of the overhang which would trap them at a dead end. About one hundred metres from them, a giant robot was attacking its fellows, but nearby robots were cottoning on and turning around. Great Britain must've seen this, however, because the renegade robot suddenly disappeared. Jet spotted a monkey swinging away from the area, unseen by the robots, and averted his gaze.

He was approaching the ground fast. Joe was nowhere to be seen, but destroyers exploding at random on top of piles of scraps gave him a clue. Jet dodged a blast, flipping onto his back and flying backwards while he shot at the ten closest robots, then twisted back over, firing his thrusters further when he saw Albert and Chang, the former quickly disappearing under a giant robot's boot and the latter being squeezed in the fist of the same robot. Jet's eyes narrowed. He levelled his blaster, gave his jets a final boost and bit down on the switch in his tooth.

Time slowed to a crawl. His blaster fired. He drew his legs beneath him just as he reached the ground and kept firing, drawing a burning line from the robot's ankle to the top of its head.

Jet felt his accelerator click, and found himself shooting back up into the sky while the quickest of his flying pursuers plowed into the weakened robot.

'Thanks!' rasped Albert. Chang gave a breathless wave of gratitude to Jet as he hurtled back down to the ground towards them, shoving them into the dirt again as the remaining hundreds of flying robots that had been pursuing him caught up. Unable to alter their path as quickly as him, they crashed into the next wave of advancing drones and giant robots. The air was thick with flying debris and Jet covered his head and Albert's as Chang took an almighty breath.

Jet could feel the heat through his uniform, burning hot and windy, for ten seconds...twenty...thirty...his head felt heavy, from the heat or exhaustion, Jet didn't know...

When Albert shoved him off of his legs, Jet rolled over and opened his eyes to find the three of them in the centre of a circle of ash and twisted metal. He gasped, inhaled ash and curled up in a fit of coughing. Albert thumped him on the back, and finally Jet could look up through teary eyes, grab Albert's hand and pull himself to his feet to look around at the swirling greyness.

'Good work, 006,' said Albert. The Chinese firebreather had a stunned expression on his face that Jet knew was mirrored on his own.

Composed once again, Jet grunted. 'Well, I'm glad that worked,' he muttered as he waited for the air to clear so they could see properly. 'Why don't we go save the others, eh?'

Albert's frown deepened. 'Uh...002...'

Jet brushed the hair from his eyes. The clenching of his stomach that heralded a battle-ready state told him what to expect before his eyes did, but Chang was quicker. He flamed the giant robot before it was fully materialised from the dissipating dust.

Jet swore and threw himself into the air. Hovering above their position, his stomach clenched tighter.

_'002?'_ came Albert's voice. _'How many are left?'_

Jet frantically tried to locate the others. 'Too many, 004. We didn't even make a dent!'

_'Well, that's not good. I'll retreat east to the overhang with 006 underground. Are the others there?'_

'Yeah, some of them,' said Jet, spotting Geronimo, as usual, hurling boulders at the enemy. Then a blast brushed past Jet's shoulder. He swore again and swooped away.

'They're doing a great job of keeping us separated,' he relayed to Albert and Chang.

_'Sounds like an effective tactic to me,_' replied Albert.

Jet was too busy dodging the next round of attacks to agree.

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It wasn't easy to jump down from the overhang and hide instantly with Ivan in her arms, but Francoise knew she couldn't leave him with Pyunma and Geronimo. With luck, she wouldn't even need to do any fighting at all – just stay hidden, find the transport with the tower, destroy it, and get back to the overhang.

She could see the tower radiating purple, miles away, being pushed towards them on wheels. She didn't know what the purple meant, but it was pulsing out from the tower in waves that spread wider and wider, eventually washing over them so everything was bathed in a slight purple – to her eyes at least. The tower followed the path of a larger group of giant robots, which cut its way through the jungle. Looking ahead, Francoise felt her throat tighten at the realisation that this island, like so many others, would be left in shambles no matter which way the battle went. Etire ecosystems destroyed, hundreds of living creatures killed, all because of the Black Ghost.

Francoise frowned and set off, more determined than ever. If she destroyed the tower quickly, the fighting might be over sooner and some of the island might yet be saved. She had to have some hope.

Her path wound through the groups of robots that she saw approaching, and avoided. They grew thicker as she neared the tower. She couldn't afford the delays that fighting would cause, she knew, and held Ivan closer, feeling his trembling through her uniform. There was a group of robots approaching from her right – she sprinted forwards, aiming to cross their path, but heard another group approaching from...directly ahead.

Francoise skidded to a stop. She had to turn back, or they'd be on top of her in seconds. A breeze rustled the leaves above her, leaves that wouldn't be there for long if the robots caught her. _Quick_! Any longer and they'd be here...their marching was so loud...

_Move!_ The voice was Jean-Paul's, and as if she was going to do it all along, Francoise leaped upwards.

Perched in the tree, she let the lower canopy shield her from view as the two robot squads intersected and continued their march. Ivan stirred in her arms. She looked up, and focussed her gaze through the trees. The tower was much closer. She could wait for it to pass her position, or...she stood up on the thick bough. The lower canopy was quite constant the whole way, while the upper branches of the trees, and vines, shielded her from the aerial robot squads. Francoise gasped as she paused to really take in where she was – a kind of haven, a green, tropical sanctuary between the ground and the sky. Small openings let in shafts of golden sunlight that made the micro-insects in the air sparkle.

As much as Francoise hated the Black Ghost, she trusted the alterations they'd made to her body. She had superior balance and excellent spacial awareness. She held Ivan tight and tensed to spring.

Soon Francoise was leaping across on tree boughs, dodging thick branches, while all the time heading for the tower. This green palace in the air would live, she would make sure of that.

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TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **I apologise for the lengthy delay, but offer a longer chapter as compensation for your patience...does that help? Allow me to simply say, 'MY THESIS IS FINISHED HOORAY!' and there we go.

I finally watched the last 6 eps of the series and...wow. I'd seen the last half of 'When You Wish Upon a Shooting Star' on Toonami years ago, which got me into this awesome series _just as it finished_. Still...I'm glad I waited until my thesis was done before I watched it, for reasons I'll explain below. For now, thank you for your patience, and here we go!

This battle will go on for maybe one more chapter, and then on to the real nuts and bolts of the story. Thank you for the reviews, as well, they made my day. A bit more 003-being-useful here, and some 007 action too. Please enjoy!

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CHAPTER 4

Thanks to her surveillance enhancements, Francoise could see the tower long before it was close. Skipping over the next few tree boughs over the heads of unsuspecting robots, she soon came to the cliff which, if she followed it to the west, would lead her back to the beach and the Dolphin.

Francoise frowned and held Ivan closer. She had to focus – the tower was 100.5 metres from her location. She stepped onto a small ledge jutting out from the cliff and held onto the thick foliage to pull herself up above the upper canopy. The sunlight dazzled her enhanced eyes for a split second before her shaded lens activated.

Before her a sea of green swept out from the cliff, thinning out about two miles southwards to her right, where her friends were fighting. She kept her left hand on the cliff, holding Ivan on her right arm, and looked straight ahead to where a large column of dust was rising above and consuming the lush green sea. It was creeping towards her, but her enhanced vision could see clearly through it to the dark transmitter tower, now less than fifty metres away.

Transferring Ivan to her left arm, Francoise steadied her feet – one on the rocky cliff, the other on the upper braches of a foxtail palm – with a ballerina's balance, and pulled out her blaster. She set it to maximum setting and sighted along its length to the single weakness of the tower – the only part that wasn't armoured, and from where purple (to her eyes, at least) waves were flowing – and fired.

The laser beam left the nozzle and travelled in a split second about four metres before incinerating a massive log. Before she could wonder at the log's sudden appearance, the shockwave reached her, slamming her back into the cliff.

Francoise coughed, struggling to get air, while keeping a death grip on Ivan. The blast had knocked her back with such force that she was momentarily imprinted in the cliffside, her toes barely touching the ledge that she'd been balancing on before.

The air shimmered before her. Francoise realised with a jolt how that log had intercepted the path of her laser – it must have been thrown by the black-and-white cyborg who had just appeared in front of her. It raised its fist...

Francoise sat up. _What?_ Data assailed her senses. She was back in the green palace, her spine aching where she'd apparently landed on a thick bough. _001!_ She looked down, here he was still clutched in her arms, safe. She closed her eyes, trying to make sense of the information her senses were picking up.

Her body was bruised, but recovering – Ivan was fine – she was now 241.6 metres from the cliffside, and 202.6 metres from the approaching tower. The black-and-white cyborg was 1.24 kilometres away, in a thick concentration of inactive robots and smouldering structures, locked in an intense battle with 009. The two flashed in and out of sight, their faces set in snarls, explosions the only clue to their existence when they accelerated. Francoise carefully rose to her feet, watching the fight through wood and leaves with dread in her heart. Their fists met and the shockwave blew them both apart. They skidded, bringing up great fans of undergrowth, before jumping back to their feet and re-engaging. They were almost mirroring each other, dodging catlike so neither could touch the other, until the black-and-white cyborg changed direction mid-swing. Joe's eyes widened and then he tucked his arms in as the black-and-white cyborg followed through with a flurry of blows to his midsection. Francoise gasped in horror.

The black-and-white cyborg paused for Joe to sway on his feet. _He's going to collapse,_ Francoise thought. _Get up, 009!_

But Joe sank to a crouch, planting his hands on the ground in what Francoise thought despairingly was a gesture of supplication, before he transferred his weight to his arms. His leg flashed out, hooking the ankles of the other cyborg and driving it to the ground. They both disappeared.

A second later Joe rematerialised, his shoulders smoking slightly, and was thrown into a tree by an invisible force. Francoise cringed at the _crunch_ that reached her ears; the black-and-white cyborg was clearly the faster of the two, but an instant later Joe flung himself off the tree with a cry, intercepted the cyborg's incoming blow, and they both disappeared again.

Francoise let out the breath she'd been holding, realising that the transmitter tower was now only 94.8 metres away. She readied her gun. There was nothing she could do to help Joe other than destroy the tower, which would help them all. She doubted Joe knew he'd saved her. Likely he'd just destroyed a power source, judging by the company of inactive robots, and the black-and-white cyborg had decided that Joe was more of a threat than she was.

Francoise frowned in determination. Her job could mean a quicker end to the fighting. Metres away, trees were crashing to the ground and being churned into woodchips by mulching robots preceding the troops surrounding the tower. Behind them a great cloud rose into the air, exhaust and wood fibres, natural fragments and artificial materials. The green palace she was standing in was diminishing before her eyes.

She leapt forward, bough by bough, until she could see the blades of the mulching robots without the aid of enhancements. The sunlight glinted off them as they sliced and hacked, drawing ever closer to her crouch. She had to time it right, or she'd end up in the mulcher, and even Joe couldn't be fast enough to save her.

The tree before her shook, then tipped towards her slightly before disintegrating into a shower of woodchips that sprayed into her face. Squinting, for she didn't dare take her eyes off the tower, Francoise waited, trying not to listen to the spinning blades that were drawing ever nearer...

Just as her tree took its first hit, Francoise leaped high with the grace of a ballerina,, stretching her utmost to soar in a perfect arc just over the deadly blades and into the sky. She was so close, the way was clear – she sighted along her outstretched arm, into the tower's purple heart, and fired.

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_Forget this, I can't keep track of all of these!'_

Great Britain dropped the tree that he, as Bigfoot, was using to knock the robots aside when the smaller 'bug' robots began to swarm all over it towards him. He pictured the next shape in his mind, pressed his belly button, and let out a roar.

The swarming bug robots were swept away by his massive curved tusks easily. Mammoth skin was hard, too, and their small blasters felt like mosquito bites. He charged through the thickest group of them, heading east, hoping that he could group up with the others at that overhang Jet had mentioned before this chaos erupted.

_How can there be so many?_ He was going to get a crick in his mammoth neck if he kept this up. It was satisfying to crush the tiny robots beneath his huge feet, but they were building up...and those big ones weren't leaving, either...

He swung his head to dislodge a robot from his ear when a pair of metal hands latched onto his tusks. The robot was as big as he was, in his mammoth form. Britain felt his feet leave the ground as he was hauled up, swung over the robot's head and slammed into the ground.

Leaves and scraps rained down on him. He couldn't breathe...He cracked his eyes open to see the bottom of a giant metal foot rushing towards his head. Britain screwed his eyes shut, concentrating, and pressed his belly button.

There were faster creatures out there, but it always took him half a second to get to know a new body – and he didn't have half a second. There was one shape, though, that he knew so well that he could morph into it in his sleep.

In less than a half a second the cyborg Great Britain was rolling to the side. The ground shook – the massive foot slammed into the ground where his head had been. He rolled again and jumped to his feet, pulled out his blaster, and sliced the ankle joint of the robot with the laser mode. He pivoted in a circle, weapon outstretched, and within another two seconds was panting in the middle of a circle of burning robots.

_I need to catch my breath_, he thought to himself, ignoring the roaring in his ears that was growing louder and louder. _Where can a bloke find a cup of t – aaAARGH!_

On the ground once again, Britain spat out dirt and nearly shot the red and orange weight on top of him.

'002! You nearly killed me!' he exclaimed. He shoved the taller cyborg off his chest and rose wearily to his feet.

'Well, you had to be in the way, idiot, it's not like you can't hear me coming!' Jet snapped.

'Why don't you...' Britain fell silent, noticing Jet's smoking uniform, adding it up with the super cranky attitude and drawing the conclusion: 'Are you hurt, 002?'

Jet looked as though he'd like to mouth off again, but quickly realised he was the one lying in the mud. He held up a hand – Britain clasped it and pulled him to his feet, holding him up by his shoulders when he stumbled.

'There's so many,' Jet muttered. He lifted his head, meeting Britain's eyes briefly, and shrugged off the support. Britain knew that was all the thanks he'd receive, and nodded.

'Are you all right?' Britain asked. Jet looked like he felt – battered and weary.

'Yeah...' Jet stumbled away, bending near the mud pool he'd created to retrieve their blasters they'd both dropped. Britain gasped at the sight of a huge gash running from Jet's hip across his back to his shoulder. 'It's not too deep,' Jet added when he faced Britain again. Britain took his blaster back. 'Just a glancing shot...they were aiming for my legs.'

He glared at the swarms of robots in the sky. Britain felt cold. 'They were trying to snap me in half, before,' he said. 'They were always aiming here...'

He trailed off, pointing to his belly button. Jet was staring at him. Britain continued: 'So if they're aiming for my transformation switch, and your jets, they must be learning robots, which means we're in big –'

The air beside Jet seemed to shimmer for a split second, before Joe flashed into sight and fell to his knees.

'009!' Jet and Britain exclaimed. They rushed to his side and helped him stand.

'This...area...is...clear,' he panted. Shaking arms reached up to grasp Britain's shoulders.

'Thank...you...'

'What happened?' asked Britain. Joe was trembling with exhaustion, sweat running down his face, and what looked like machine oil soaked his uniform. He must've noticed the horrified look on Britain's face, because he shook his head slowly.

'Not mine,' he said. 'It's okay, I just need a breather.'

Jet was frowning at him. 'We've got to get back to the others,' he said. 'We don't stand a chance, separated like this.'

'I agree,' said Britain. 'Let's get away from this area before we get stuck again.'

Joe nodded and drew himself up. Britain and Jet did the same. Already feeling a little better from the brief rest, Britain took the lead. Together they ran east, leaving the wreckage behind them.

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It wasn't long before Great Britain, Jet and Joe were attacked again. About a hundred robots, big and small, simply appeared on their left side – Joe groaned, but before he moved, Britain heard a metallic ring and Jet stood before Britain.

'Rock!' he snapped.

Britain pressed his belly button and in a practiced movement, transformed into a large human-shaped rock at Jet's back, linking his stone arms with Jet's. Jet raised his legs and fired his boosters. Flames burst from his feet, shooting horizontally into the robots. The noise was horrible – metal screamed as it twisted and warped in the heat, merging with the deafening whine of the jets at full power. Britain gritted his teeth, planting his stone feet into the earth as Jet's back pressed into him with the force of sixty thousand horses, while the robots melted before them.

After ten seconds at full power, the fire stopped. Jet sagged in Britain's arms.

Britain lowered the trembling Jet to the ground and pulled out his blaster once more. He and Joe walked up and down the gooey, charred battlefield, dispatching any surviving robots. Britain still felt cold as he recognised human shapes in the twisted metal.

_How close are we to them, really,_ he wondered. If only Black Ghost would make robots that _didn't_ look like humans, he wouldn't be so disturbed. He looked over at Joe, who looked like he was thinking along the same lines. Their eyes met, and they made their way back to Jet, who was climbing gingerly to his feet.

'That was amazing, 002,' gushed Britain in an attempt to lighten the mood – his as much as anyone else's.

It worked – Jet smirked, then grimaced. 'I'm glad we practised that. It shouldn't hurt so much, only I'm so damn tired – '

'And wounded,' added Britain.

Jet nodded. 'Yeah...'

'It all adds up,' Joe said grimly. 'Let's keep going.'

Britain ducked under Jet's right arm when he looked down at Jet's boots, the bottoms of which were still glowing. He knew that he himself, were he feeling fresh and energised, wouldn't feel the aches of being shot and slammed into the ground half as much as he did now, when he'd been fighting for hours with no rest. Even Joe, the best model of them all, couldn't fight forever.

_Can you all hear me now? _

'Ivan!'

Great Britain looked at Jet and Joe. They'd clearly forgotten the baby as well.

'Hey, wait a minute,' Jet said, then broadcast. 'Where have you been? We've been getting our asses kicked for hours!'

_ I've been occupied,_ came the wry answer. _003 had to knock out their transmitter which was dampening my psychic ability. Now that it's destroyed, I've seen their plans._

'Keep us separated?' asked Britain.

_Exactly. All of these robots are controlled by a single cyborg. He's sending out large groups at a time, to force us to repeatedly engage and wear down our energy. He's got enough troops to keep us fighting for days. His idea is to send the whole force when we've reached our limit, capture us, and return us to Black Ghost for reprogramming._

'Reprogramming? I thought Black Ghost just wanted to kill us!' Jet sounded insulted, for some reason.

Professor Gilmore, through the reopened channel, answered this time. '_When you rebelled, you were too much of a threat to the Black Ghost to be kept alive. In the years you've avoided death by his most deadly assassins, he must have realised that the nine of you as a team are more powerful than any weapon he has since constructed.'_

'So in reprogramming us,' Britain mused, 'he'll get the most powerful team...'

_'Not to mention regaining his investment,' _came Albert's voice.

_This is a very important fight, _continued Ivan. _We must find this cyborg before he wears us down._

'Too late,' Jet muttered outside the link.

Joe was frowning. '001, does this cyborg have an accelerator?'

It was Francoise who answered. _'Yes. And it's a later model than yours. He's dressed in black and white.'_

Joe drew up with a gasp. 'I must've been too close to his operations, because he attacked me!'

_All right,_ said Ivan. _Here's the plan. We all – _

Silence. Had his transmitter failed? Britain looked at the other two. They looked back at him blankly.

'Maybe they were attacked,' said Jet.

'Then that means...' began Britain. _Oh, not again..._

There was a crash, followed by more, closer and closer. Britain felt his gut tighten.

'We keep heading east,' said Joe. 'Fight to the east. Back to the others. It's our only chance.'

Finally the trees on either side of them gave way, and a horde of robots marched through towards them. Jet took his arm from Britain's shoulders. Beside them, Joe gasped.

A cyborg, black-cowled and white-scarfed, stood before the army. He had a black tunic similar to theirs, with white buttons and leggings, and black boots. He stood still for perhaps two seconds. Then, with a _click_, he disappeared.

Joe growled. Jet put a hand on his shoulder. 'You heard 003,' said Jet. 'He's faster than you.'

'I'll try to angle him towards you,' Joe said quickly. 'Get to the overhang! You heard 001, if we get him, it's over!'

He disappeared. Jet swore.

'Get away from here,' he advised Britain. 'I'll try to track 009.'

He jumped into the sky and fired his jets.

Great Britain stood there for about half a second. When the robots clashed together, there were no cyborgs, only a single hummingbird flitting to the east.

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TBC

**Author's Note cont.:** Hope you like it...things are heating up!

About the last few episodes...(SPOILER warning)

I'm sure the only parts of this show I saw years ago were bits of 'Man and Machine' and the last of 'Shooting Star', yet can't help but think that I must've seen more of it and had it in unconscious memory for years because parts of it were uncannily similar to my thesis, which was a creative story. In it there was a corporation hell-bent on scientific discovery (sound familiar? however - the environment was the issue, not world war), the lead's name is Daphne and it was the bond between her and her sister that decides the final result. Okay, not the same, but it was a bit weird to watch those 5 sisters...you see what I mean. The thesis is done, now, and Cyborg 009 got me through the year!

But far out, that was an intense series finale. This series is really quite deep, it's a shame not many people realise it. Oh well. We do, and that's what counts! :D More story coming soon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** I apologise for the long wait. Can I just say a blanket 'sorry' over the whole thing, as I have no internet at home and it'll probably be irregular uploading from now on. On the plus side, that means every chapter will be a surprise! Yay!

And miles to go before we sleep...I own nothing you recognise. Onwards, please enjoy!

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CHAPTER 5

Pyunma and Geronimo fought back-to-back, struggling to hold the overhang. Bereft of his usual mobility, Pyunma leaned back against the giant when he could, taking the weight off his injured foot. The overhang had diminished in size since the robots began firing at it from beneath about half an hour ago, catching his foot when the ground became thin enough to crumble.

Geronimo shuddered at his back. Pyunma gritted his teeth and darted around, to see a greater number of robots than ever.

'We need to go!' he shouted to Geronimo.

The giant hurled two more robots into their fellows, but the tide advanced. They were just about surrounded.

'What about the others?'

'They'll figure it out...' Pyunma began doubtfully.

_'Come back to the cliff, everyone,' _came Ivan's voice._ 'We'll make our way back to the beach along it.'_

Pyunma and Geronimo shared a glance, nodded, and together they turned and jumped. They hit the ground running, crossing the wide tree-less area before the robots on the ground had a chance to respond to their strategy. For they were, certainly, learning robots, thought Pyunma as he watched the heads of several turn, before emitting a series of mechanical noises and having a whole troop turn as one to follow them. Obviously robot generals of some kind. Not as quick as cyborgs, but they didn't tire like cyborgs, either ...

Just as they passed the first line of trees, Pyunma stepped oddly on a concealed root with his injured foot and went down with a cry. It felt as though his whole limb were shutting down ... painfully. Behind, he could hear the waves of robots approaching. They weren't far enough into the trees to be able to hide. Geronimo, up ahead, turned as Pyunma dragged himself to his feet by the nearest tree.

'Go!' Pyunma shouted to him. Geronimo was still twenty paces away when a blast hit the tree. Woodchips flew everywhere. Pyunma fell back to the ground, covering his head, trying not to think about the similar position he'd been in when the Black Ghost caught him. With the same sounds of gunfire, of many footsteps shaking the ground, and the pain of being wounded, though, it was difficult not to imagine he was back home ... with the shouting and the flamethrowers ...

_Flamethrowers?_

Pyunma raised his head just before he was picked up by massive hands. Chang stood protectively by Geronimo, a torrent of flame flying from his mouth, keeping the robots at bay.

'All set?' came Albert's voice.

'Let's go,' rumbled Geronimo.

Together they turned and ran once more towards the cliffs. Pyunma tried not to black out. It must be more than the wound in my foot, he thought, but couldn't remember what. He tried focusing on what the others were saying.

'Lucky ... we found you,' puffed Chang. 'Are you all right, 008?'

Pyunma was keeping his eyes ahead. 'Yeah. I think so.'

'I think you've gone into shock,' said Geronimo. 'Just try to relax.'

But Pyunma couldn't relax. His friends were in danger. And, up ahead, there were four more robots. He lifted a shaking arm to point.

'I'm on it!' Albert darted ahead. Pyunma saw the flash of a blade, and by the time they caught up, the robots were scrap. Without a word, they ran on, Albert dispatching stray robots in their path with his deadly knife-hand.

_Is there no end to these?_ Pyunma thought as more emerged from the trees on either side. A burst of flame from his left told him Chang was covering that side; Geronimo grunted and pitched forward, catching his feet just in time. In a second Pyunma was pointing his blaster over Geronimo's shoulder, picking off those behind.

'_Move_!' shouted Albert.

A haze was closing on Pyunma's vision. He pulled his arms back around his body – it was too difficult to aim from over Geronimo's shoulder while he ran. With Chang, they caught up to Albert, who was holding his left hand before him protectively, waiting for them to join him. Something about his stance struck Pyunma as odd.

Then it hit. '004,' he said. His voice came out as a whisper. '004!' he tried again.

Albert turned. Seeing them approaching, he matched pace, and they ran as a group.

'What?' asked Albert as Chang flamed a few more robots in their path.

'Here.' Pyunma fumbled his blaster to Albert, who barely caught it. Albert's steely gaze pierced him.

'I'm all right,' Pyunma told him. Albert just raised an eyebrow. Pyunma sighed. 'I don't think it was a normal gunshot,' he admitted. 'I've been compromised. You can use that better than I can, at the moment, 004.'

Geronimo's arms had pulled Pyunma tighter. Albert kept his gaze focused on him for another long moment, before grinning and hefting the blaster.

'Thanks,' he said. 'You just hold on until we can get you back to Doctor Gilmore, all right?'

Pyunma smiled. 'Better ask him for some more rounds while you're at it.'

Albert gave a small chuckle. 'Well, I tried not to make it obvious. This'll help, though I've got one more left. Hang tight, there's more on the way!'

He jumped out of Pyunma's sight. Pyunma closed his eyes against the dizziness rising in his head, cursing his helplessness as the sounds of battle continued.

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Joe knew he wasn't the fastest cyborg to come out of Black Ghost's facility, but knowing that didn't make it any easier to run after one of the later models. He liked to think that he, at least, had more experience and creativity with his accellerator. However, after what felt like hours of running, his whole frame was aching, and still the black-and-white form was just in his sight.

_'009, we'll take him together! Where are you?'_ Even through the transmitter, Joe could hear Jet's irritation.

_'_He's in my sights, 002,' Joe sent back. 'Can you trace me? He's going to wear me out before I catch him!'

_'On my way. Don't kill yourself, 009.'_

Trees, rocks, everything was invisible. All Joe could see was a flash of black and white, tantalisingly close. But he could feel his body falling apart, as if his flesh were lagging behind, dragged by the wires that held him together to the cybernetic parts that were disturbingly overheated.

Joe knew when he was beaten. He slowed marginally, almost sobbing with exhaustion, ready to switch back to normal speed once his quarry disappeared.

Then his eyes widened. The black-and-white cyborg seemed to stop in the in-between space of high speed, and change direction. Joe stretched forward – his fingertips touched the cyborg's white scarf – and the chase was on again. Joe growled and bit hard on the accelleration switch, going to maximum speed once more. His legs were burning as if he were running on fire. He couldn't go much further, he knew – but the cyborg was _so close..._

Suddenly the black-and-white cyborg paused again and, so close now, Joe stared into the cyborg's mask. He seemed to smirk, just as Joe lunged forward in one final, desperate leap – and disappeared. Unable to stop his momentum, Joe flew forward through nothing until an incredible jolt around his midsection yanked him out of accelleration mode faster than he'd ever managed. His vision went from the black blur of speed to the greens and browns of the regular time frame, and he registered that he'd literally crashed out of accelleration before it struck again.

It felt as though he was being cut in two. Before he could take a breath his vision dimmed, but in the haze Joe saw what looked like a whip of lightning around his middle. He grabbed it – his hands sizzled – and pulled. More cords shot out from the trees and lashed onto his legs. _No!_ He bit down on the switch in his tooth. The familiar blur surrounded him for a split second, but an excruciating jolt shot through him, sending him to his knees with a cry. Joe struggled upright, the cords hissing and spitting as he splashed through the mud he'd created for a few desperate steps, cursing his stupidity. _'002! I'm in trouble!'_

_'I can see you, 009.'_ Jet's voice was tight. _'Just hold on.'_

More cords came out of nowhere, like electrified tentacles. There was no way he could avoid them – his body was exhausted, his reactions sluggish and hampered by the restraints. Joe screamed as they latched onto his wrists and sent electricity surging through his limbs. The cords tightened, and he could do nothing to stop it – pain was tearing the screams from his throat with a razorblade, and his body arched, limbs pulled across his chest by the electric wires that felt as though they were cutting into his _bones_, holding him fast to the ground in a grotesque contortion.

'_009! Just hold on a few more seconds...'_ came Jet's voice.

A pair of sleek black boots appeared sideways before Joe's eyes, and the surges dimmed marginally. He could smell the mud he was lying in, and burnt electrics. Joe looked wearily up at the black-and-white cyborg's helmet and tried to speak.

'Wh – ' The question rose to a shriek as another shock coursed through his body.

_'_..._002?'_

Panting, but trying not to move, Joe heard the roar of Jet's thrusters growing louder. His eyes flicked upwards to the cyborg's helmet, behind which the blue blur of the sky was split by a line of white exhaust. The black-and-white cyborg raised one white arm.

_'Want me to take this loser out? 'Cause I'll – aaaAARGH!'_

_'002!'_

The arm, now with a fist clenched, drew back, then swung forward, fingers opening in a perfect pitch. Joe could only stare, not breathing, as the red and orange blur was plucked out of the sky and thrown, like a cricket ball, out of his field of vision. Jet's scream rang in his ears for – for Joe didn't know how long.

A red haze crept into his sight as he glared at the cyborg above him. Joe tensed and tried to draw his limbs under him. The cyborg looked down at him expressionlessly, and Joe was once more enveloped in pain. His back arched, limbs jerking at the restraints that kept him tethered to the ground. Tears forced their way from eyes that were squeezed shut as the screams scraped his throat raw and electricity surged through him.

_'Help!'_ he sent through the link as loud as he could manage, before he felt a single touch that sent a bead of agony into his forehead. His eyes flew open to see the cyborg's helmet inches from his own face – but the pain was too much – a huge gasp wasn't enough to dispel the confusion and pain still coursing through his tortured body – with a low groan, Joe relaxed, slipping into blessed nothing.

888888888

Albert always thought it was weird that everything hurt when he had _no_ deadly missiles or bullets embedded in his limbs. Well, he had one missile left, but he didn't want to waste it on something that could be dispatched with his knife. And Pyunma's blaster was running out of charge, too.

At least they'd managed to outrun the latest troop of robots. He could see parts of the cliff through the trees.

'Not far now,' he threw back to Chang, Geronimo and Pyunma. _Hold on, 008._ He didn't know what was wrong with the African, but Pyunma didn't normally go down easily.

An unusual movement of a bush caught his attention. Without hesitating, Albert leaped forward, his left hand drawn back for the strike. He swung ...

... only to divert at the last second. Francoise screamed, and his hand sliced cleanly through the trunk of a palm tree.

The others caught up, and stopped.

'You couldn't have come out just a little sooner, 003?' asked Albert as the tree crashed to the ground behind him.

'I'm so sorry, 004,' said Francoise. Her hands were shaking as she cradled Ivan. 'Since I was hit by that cyborg, my depth perception has been acting strange – 008!'

'It's all right,' Albert muttered. Geronimo crouched to sit Pyunma down on the ground, assisted by Francoise. Albert scanned the area. That tree stump he'd made looked dreadfully enticing – but he knew, that if he sat down now he'd never drag his limbs back up again. 'This area seems to be secure for the moment – do you know where the others _argh!_'

Something very small and very fast had slammed into the side of his head. Albert had Pyunma's blaster pointed at it the instant it hit the ground, but didn't shoot the hummingbird that he was sure didn't belong in this climate. Sure enough, there was a _pop!_ and Great Britain was dusting himself off.

'Ah! There you are!' Chang bustled over joyfully and looked Britain over critically. 'You look like you've been mud-basted for a barbecue.'

Britain gave a small laugh. 'And here I thought you'd have had as much fighting as me. Next time remind me to send all the enemies to you – I've been fighting non-stop out there!'

'Everyone has,' Albert said quietly, flexing his aching right hand. How metal ached, he didn't know. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him.

'001!' Britain said, after greeting the others. 'I thought you must've been attacked. Why did you stop communicating so suddenly?'

Albert turned. He'd been wondering that too, but had forgotten in the chaos. The others were in a circle around Francoise, who was sitting on the ground with Pyunma, Ivan in her arms.

'_I'm sorry. 003 and I were hiding, and were being passed by some robots who have developed the ability to sense my long-distance telepathy and telekinesis. I stopped talking to you because it would have called the robots down on 003 and me.' _

'Black Ghost has telepathic robots?' Albert asked incredulously.

_'No,' _Ivan replied. _'These robots are learning robots.'_

There was a collective 'Ah' of comprehension from the group.

_'During the course of this battle, after 003 destroyed the transmitter tower, they've been pinpointing my location with greater accuracy. I figured out that the wider the range of my powers that I use, the greater the chance of discovery.'_

'But you told us to come to the cliff not long ago ...' began Albert. 'So ...'

_'Yes, they'll be here very soon. We should make our way back to the Dolphin, and hope that 002 and 009 find us.'_

Britain gave a huge gasp. 'They'll have company. 009 was locked in a battle with Chess-cyborg, and 002 was tracking him!'

'Where?' asked Albert.

'"Chess cyborg?"' asked Francoise, in the same instant that Chang demanded, 'Why didn't you say so before?'

'There was so much to catch up on!' Britain rounded on the chef.

'This isn't a gossip session! Our friends' lives are at stake!'

'You think I don't know that, seeing the condition those two were in –'

'_Enough!_' Francoise cried. '007, where were they headed?'

Britain looked a little ashamed, thought Albert. This battle was wearing them all down.

'009 said he was going to try to angle the cyborg back to us. 002 was to track him from the air.'

'How long ago was this?' asked Albert.

'Just after 001 stopped his communications,' Britain replied.

'About twenty minutes ago, then.' Albert activated his transmitter, then turned it off quickly. '001, can these robots sense our transmitters as well as your telepathy?'

_'Either way, they're still coming,'_ came the ominous reply.

'Then let's head back to the Dolphin,' Albert said. As everyone began to groan and move, he activated his transmitter again. He didn't want to distract 009, if he was in accelleration mode ... '002, do you copy?'

_'Nice of you to check in.' _Jet's voice was crackled, and the whine of his jets was nearly deafening in Albert's ears. Turning, he could see the others wincing, too.

'Can you and 009 come back to the cliff at all?'

The transmission went silent for a second, then: '_...ther fucking side of ... damn far ... try, though ...'_

Albert could hear, through the feedback, a touch of worry. '002? What's happening?'

'_Hold ... visible now, but ... lectricity ... shit ... caught, I'm gonna ...'_

The transmissions ceased.

Albert clenched his fist. '001, do you know where they are?'

_'They're on the far side of the island. I suggest we retreat to the Dolphin and pick them up as quickly as possible.'_

'Right,' said Albert. 'Let's go!'

Geronimo picked up Pyunma, and Francoise stayed close with Ivan. Albert took the lead, and they ran once more, hugging the cliff and hearing the sounds of robots grow closer from behind.

'Watch out!' called Francoise. 'There's something from the air!'

By the time she finished, Albert could hear it – the eerie whine of a falling missile. He halted, growling, and knelt. One missile left ... he had to make this count, or they'd all be shrapnel.

The high-pitched whine grew louder. Albert clenched his teeth, trusting his artificial instincts to know when to fire ... three ... two ...

'_Hold your fire!' _screamed Francoise.

Albert caught himself just in time. He slammed his knee closed, falling forwards with the momentum just as a blast of flame burst into life for an instant, right above him, and then a tremendous crash shook the cliff beside them.

Albert climbed wearily to his feet and squinted through the debris and dust. 'Is everyone all right?'

'What _was_ that?' coughed Britain.

Waving his hand before his eyes to clear the dust, Albert tried to concentrate over the ringing in his ears. He looked up at the cliff – whatever had crashed into it had formed a vertical crater in the cliffside, and now lay in a huge pile of rock at its base. He began to make his way over.

'Hurry, 004. 005, please help him, quick!' said Francoise. Albert felt the first fluttering of worry at the urgency in her voice.

'Are we under attack?' asked Britain.

'Not yet ... just get those rocks away!' she commanded. 'It's 002.'

Albert didn't wait any longer. He ran for the rocks, but before he and Geronimo reached them, a blue glow surrounded them and they lifted into the air, settling to the side with a crash to reveal a dusty yellow scarf and blood-red tunic ...

_'_I'm gonna_ kill _that fucking son of a bitch_ ... aaAARGH!'_

Albert leaped across the few boulders left and caught Jet just as he tried to rise, and fell. They collapsed to their knees, Jet hacking up what sounded like the whole cliff onto Albert's shoulder.

The others were approaching just as Jet buried his head on Albert's chest. 'Oh fuck, it hurts ... and 009 ... _shit..._'

He was shaking badly, Albert realised. He took Jet's shoulders and laid the protesting cyborg back on the ground so he wouldn't fall far when he fainted – which would be any moment now, he thought, looking at Jet's legs. Albert could only guess that they'd been the first part of Jet to hit the cliff – and at that speed, Jet was lucky to be alive. His legs were a bloody, sparking mess from the knee down.

Francoise knelt, exchanged a glance with Albert, and took Jet's head on her knees.

'Just stay still, 002,' she said.

Jet groaned loudly. 'We don't have time! 009's in trouble ...'

He raised himself up onto his elbows, and tried to draw his legs under him, only to collapse with a scream when they dragged on the debris.

Seeing Jet raise his head to look, Albert threw himself across the other's chest.

'You don't want to see that,' Albert murmured, his face inches from Jet's. This close, he could see the glaze over Jet's eyes. The feedback must be horrible, he thought.

'004, look out!'

The voice was Francoise's, and Albert automatically hunched over Jet as a shot went over his head. Jet didn't make a sound – as Albert had predicted, the pain had overloaded his system. _He's not a machine,_ Albert chided himself. _He's fainted, not overloaded._

He rose to find the others in a defensive semicircle around Jet. Surrounding them were the rest of the robot army. Albert rose carefully to one knee, missile ready.

'009?' Francoise murmured despairingly to the baby in her arms.

_'I'm sorry,'_ he replied. _'We will return for 009.'_

A blue light began to glow around them. Through it, Albert saw the robot army raise their guns. The collective shots sounded as a single _Bang!_ that echoed in his head just as the world turned black all over.

888888888

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **Hello everyone! Well it's heating up now ... Whoever reviewed: Why thank you, and I'll try my best to update lots! I'm leaning towards longer chapters now, as that's my preference when I'm reading. Any comments or suggestions are welcome.

Anything you recognise is not owned by me.

**CHAPTER 6**

As the stars receded, Albert fought to keep from gagging at the nausea that blossomed for a long moment before the pristine floor of the _Dolphin_'s infirmary came into view.

He rose unsteadily to his feet, waiting for things to arrange themselves in order. The confusion finally cleared, and with a gasp he turned and knelt, once again, at Jet's side, just as a chorus of groans arose from the other semi-unconscious cyborgs in the room.

'Good heavens, what happened?' Professor Gilmore rushed in before the automatic door was fully open. Albert looked up, seeing Gilmore take in the situation with a practiced eye.

'001 teleported us here when we were cornered. It takes a while to get used to,' said Albert. At Gilmore's gesture, he hoisted up the groaning Jet onto an examination table, where the doctor immediately shone a torch into his glazed eyes. Gilmore grunted.

'Yes, the disorientation of teleporting plays havoc on the natural parts of the body,' he said, now positioning one of the bed's scanners above Jet's left knee. 'That's why 001 has to render you unconscious, and also why it has less of a detrimental effect on you, 004. Your artificial compass and inertia control has been built to help you recover faster from, say, missile explosions, which was a danger that we anticipated for you, since you were to be used in battlefields with heavy ammunition.'

Albert didn't reply. He wished he hadn't said anything. To his right, Geronimo was still holding a hand to his head. Albert hurried over and helped Pyunma to his feet, hoisting him up in his arms when Pyunma fell. He carried Pyunma back to where Jet was, and laid the African on the adjacent examination table, hoping that Gilmore would be distracted and cut off his lecture.

But Gilmore, now locking the scanner over Jet and hurrying around the table to see to Pyunma, continued: 'The idea was that if you were hit and sent spiralling into the air, 004, your targeting system would still work so you could fire back immediately. You've probably been using it without thinking, and 009 as well.'

'009?' Francoise was looking around, standing now, with wide eyes. '009, we have to go back for him!'

On the table, Jet wrenched himself upright. Albert grabbed his shoulder to stop him from sitting up further.

'W-ait!' Jet was shaking so hard, his words shaking too. 'Y-y-you don't kn-now wh-h-at you're up against!'

'Then tell us, and we can go forewarned,' insisted Francoise.

Gilmore helped Albert force Jet back down onto his back. 'You stay like that,' he told Jet sternly, when the American opened his mouth. 'You can talk, but if you move, I'll send everyone away. You'll be fine, as long as you stay still while I see to 008.'

Jet's mouth snapped shut, and he and Albert looked together at Pyunma. He was lying calmly, albeit with fists trembling, on his table while Gilmore ran the scanner over him.

'This is more complex,' Gilmore muttered. Then his voice rose. 'I know the situation is urgent, but please remember that this is an infirmary. Now, tell me what's happened to 009.'

Jet groaned.

'001, did you see it?' asked Geronimo.

_No, _the baby replied. _The black-and-white cyborg is a psychic, and was blocking my sight when 009 was caught. 002 will have to be strong enough to tell us._

'Oh, I'll t-tell you, all right.' At Gilmore's stern glare, Jet quit trying to rise and relaxed, resting his crossed wrists on his forehead. '009 went to chase that ... that _asshole_ cyborg, and didn't wait for me or anyone else.' His fists were trembling; his anger must be giving him strength, Albert thought, relieved that he didn't have to concentrate on making out Jet's speech any longer.

Jet continued: 'So he goes charging off, and I'm left flying after him – and ahead I see what I thought was 0010, only it wasn't, it was 009 running into the electricity trap they'd set for him.'

'Electricity trap?' Gilmore interrupted. 'What do you mean, 002?'

Jet had lowered his arms to look at Gilmore, and his eyes narrowed darkly. 'It was like a tripwire, or something. Electric.'

Gilmore frowned. 'But you can bypass material things in acceleration mode. Unless he was only running ...'

'He was accelerating. This thing ripped him out of it ... don't know how ...'

Albert put a hand on Jet's trembling arm. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Francoise look at Geronimo, but he didn't react.

'... and then there were more of those cords. Came out of nowhere. Brought him to the ground, just like 0010 did. And that black-and-white bastard just standing there ... and I was _so close!_'

'What happened?' asked Francoise, quietly.

Jet's eyes were closed tight. 'Damn psychic. I was flying at top speed – _top speed! _– towards him, and he just throws me like a spinning fastball. I couldn't ignite my jets until just before the cliff got in the damn way.'

'So 009 ...' Albert began.

Jet opened his eyes briefly, then closed them again. 'Black Ghost've got him. And they'll be prepared for a rescue with that black-and-white bastard in charge.'

'Are you saying we should just leave him there?' Francoise's tone had changed. Albert glanced at her, not surprised to see her eyes narrowed dangerously.

_We've already left,_ said Ivan. He rose into the air and hovered, Albert noticed, as far from Francoise as subtlety allowed.

Suddenly Great Britain and Chang, who had been on the floor holding their heads the whole time, vanished.

'WHAT?!' Albert and Geronimo were nearly to the ship's infirmary console to check the sensors when Ivan spoke again.

_I'm sorry. I was projecting an image of 006 and 007 since we arrived._

'Explains-s why ... s-so quiet,' snickered Jet through gritted teeth.

Albert felt his artificial heart relax slightly. 'Where are they, 001?'

Francoise, meanwhile, had been looking around wildly. 'Oh no, 001, you didn't!' she cried.

_I sent 006 and 007 to pilot the _Dolphin _away from this island. The enemy still looking for us, and we are in no condition to ..._

'No! We have to go back!' Francoise nearly made it to the door, but Geronimo caught her.

'It's all right,' he said in that calm, deep voice. '001 has a plan.' He looked up expectantly.

Albert wondered if Ivan knew how to be smug. _Already they are searching the area where the _Dolphin _was hidden. We need to plan how to save 009. 007, are you ready? _

_ 'Yessiree.'_

_ 007 will be mapping out our path. He will find 009, and be constantly transmitting his position through a semi-telepathic emitter that the robots won't detect._

'This sounds terribly risky,' said Albert, transmitting to Britain and Chang as well. 'We're much stronger as a team. It was our separation that led to 009's capture, as I recall.'

_That's why I'll be monitoring 007 at all times. _

'What about their telepathic detection? And the dampening of your abilities that happened on the island?' asked Francoise.

_This is not an ability. It is his mechanical transmitter that Professor Gilmore altered in the likely event of 007's separation from us in scouting missions. Since the robots have similar mechanical transmitters, I think the telepathic waves will be too artificial for them to distinguish from the others, and faint enough to pass under the radar._

_'We'll see how it goes, eh? Keep the home fires burning. This is agent 007, signing out ...'_

_ 'Oh just go already!' _said Chang.

The airlock hissed, and then, silence.

_'Eh – think I could get a co-pilot or two up here?'_

Albert shook his head bemusedly. _Such a group of differences_. Ivan had floated back down to Geronimo, who was handing him to Francoise. Beneath his left hand, Jet was still trembling, though he seemed to be losing energy.

'Hang in there,' Albert said. Jet nodded, eyes closed. Albert sighed and turned to Pyunma. Gilmore was frowning at the readouts above the unconscious African's head. Trying to ignore the tightening of his gut, Albert nodded a goodbye to Francoise, who took a place by Gilmore's side. Geronimo joined him, and together they made their way to the bridge, to pilot their bubble of safety through the dangerous waters.

_Let us nurse our wounds in peace,_ Albert thought. _Let 007 find 009 in one piece. Let us be a family ... somehow._

__888888888

Joe realised he was waking up when he heard his own harsh breath in his ears. He kept his eyes closed, letting his consciousness bring itself up to speed with the feedback that began pouring in from all over his body.

An all-over ache seemed to squeeze every bone so tight he thought he might simply crumble. Every inch of his skin tingled as though each nerve were a knife being sharpened on a whetstone, its harsh sound the rasp of his breath. Eyes still closed for the slight dizziness, Joe tried to calm himself, his breath slowly growing more restrained as he struggled to keep from making even the smallest of movements.

Finally, Joe opened his eyes. Bright light stung for an instant before his solar lens activated, and his stomach twisted at the horrible familiarity of his situation.

It was the same nightmare, over again. After they'd escaped, he'd had countless dreams of waking up, alone and confused, in one of Black Ghost's laboratories, just as he had years ago. In those dreams he never remembered that he had escaped; he simply 'woke up', trapped in a strange mechanised body, calling for the help or the explanations that would never come. When in reality he did wake from those dreams, his body was so tightly clenched with terror that he nearly threw up after every one.

The last dream had been years ago. Together with the others, he'd come to terms with his situation, and moved on.

Now, lying on a cold metal table staring into a fluorescent lamp in what could only be a Black Ghost laboratory, the same fear sent bile to the back of his throat. His limbs, already trembling from the after-effects of those electric whips, felt cold and twitchy. His red and gold uniform was nowhere to be seen, and the plain grey pyjama-like outfit did nothing for his confidence.

_Pull yourself together._ It had only been a minute or two, and already he was panicking. _Some super-cyborg you are._

He and the others had been through so much together since that time. Even if Joe didn't have Ivan in his head guiding him away from the facility, he at least knew what was going on this time. He took a deeper breath, feeling the pain recede slightly as he turned his attention to the matter at hand. They'd escaped Black Ghost once; he could do it again, and if any of the others were here, he'd get them out too.

No-one was in the room with him, but Joe suspected that the large mirror to his right wasn't exactly a mirror. There was one single door, closest to his bare feet. His wrists were somewhere above his head; he knew without looking that they were attached to the table with the same malleable bindings that the cyborgmen had used on them back in Vietnam. His ankles, too, were likewise attached, and glancing down carefully he could see the dough-like restraints around his chest and hips. _Looks like I'm not going anywhere._

Joe decided he'd have to wait and see. Recover his strength, which would be easy enough if they left him alone. Find out where he was; his GPS and transmitter seemed to be disabled, or non-functional, which explained the slight dizziness. As far as he could tell, they hadn't done anything else while they were fiddling around with his head, but the Black Ghost knew his circuitry better than he did. It was always a source of anxiety to Professor Gilmore, Joe mused. Knowing that there wasn't much he could find out about his predicament that he hadn't already, Joe let his mind wander ...

_2 years ago ..._

'This is an easy fix,' said Professor Gilmore. Joe watched Jet, whose face was red with humiliation, flop back on the couch.

'Just get on with it, would ya? I've got to get that bastard back ...'

Gilmore frowned and drew back. 'I don't know what 007 did to upset you, but you're the one who injured yourself, 002. And if you boys can't fix yourselves after overreacting to some harmless pranks ...'

'Not exactly harmless, Professor,' Joe interrupted. 'GB actually had Jet's nose – '

'I don't even want to know!' Gilmore hand appeared in front of Joe's face. 'It's bad enough that the others are making bets on this ridiculous challenge ...'

'They what?' Jet sat up, but Gilmore ignored him.

'Watch carefully,' he said. 'You too, 009. You will probably have to do this again soon.' He shot a dark glance at Jet, before placing his hands on Jet's bent left foot. Joe held his breath.

Gilmore twisted his hands – there was a series of clicks – Jet cried out – and silence.

'Hey, thanks, Doc!' said Jet. 'It feels normal again!'

Gilmore sniffed and took his hands off Jet's foot. 'Of course it does. Your foot has over fifty hinges, just like a human's has joints. They all work with the implants in your ears to keep headed in the direction you want to go. We didn't want you to need stabilisers in your hands to keep you balanced.'

Jet was staring at the professor open-mouthed. Joe doubted a word of this was getting through Jet's skull.

'Fortunately Black Ghost anticipated that you'd crash at some point, so I was ordered to design an easy-fix foot in case your vitals were injured,' here Gilmore gestured to Jet's chest, 'and you needed to get away. I doubt he knew you'd need the repairs for such a foolish reason, though ...'

Jet, finally, lowered his head shamefully.

Gilmore nodded. 'The hinges are all set in a chain so they could be reconnected with one movement. You should be able to do this too. I won't be here forever to help you and 007 kill each other.'

'Aw, come on, Doc, you love it.' Jet swung his legs off the table and flexed his foot happily.

Gilmore sniffed again. 'If anyone wants to know about their own bodies,' he called back as he made his way to the door, 'you know where to find me. It might save your life, when I'm gone.'

The door swished closed behind him.

Joe turned back to Jet. 'He's right, you know. We do get in a lot of trouble out there.'

Jet hopped off the table and slapped him on the shoulder. 'Yeah, but the doc loves being needed. What would he do if we could repair ourselves, make up more boring lectures?'

'Mmm,' Joe grunted uncommittedly.

'Come on,' said Jet. 'I need your help on how to get GB back ...'

The vision faded, leaving behind a keen longing deep in Joe's chest. He opened his eyes, feeling warmer than he had before, as if the memory had stirred the life from where it had settled in his heart and sent it rushing through every inch of his body.

_I will get back to them._

888888888

The island was a mess. Great Britain soared high above, his seagull wings hardly moving in the gusts that was slowly blowing sand over the mass of debris. Whole sections of the forest were levelled, and the area where Jet had crashed into the cliff was a ground of boulders.

Flying east for a little while, he saw a group of bent and broken trees. Britain landed and checked his position, switching to human form. He was in the same place that Joe had been captured.

'Hmmm,' he said to himself. 'There's nothing much here to investigate ...'

'_007, do you copy?'_

_ 'Yeowch!'_ Heart pounding, Britain began disentangling himself from the bush he'd jumped into. 'Good grief, 001, this new semi-telepathic transmitter almost gave me a semi-heart attack!'

_'It's much more vivid than your regular transmitter, yes. Have you found anything?'_

'Nothing, though I didn't get to have much of a look before jumping out of my skin just now.'

_'Sorry.'_

Britain looked around more closely. The ground was torn up and muddy, but there still lingered the sharp smell of charcoal. He followed the trail of broken and scorched plants from the mud a few metres to a thick tree, where dents were cut horizontally into it, as if a rope with great tension had pulled tighter and tighter around it.

Britain frowned, and began to walk in a spiral outwards from the mud.

'001,' he said when he came to the fourth tree with similar marks. 'I've found more clues.'

_'Go ahead.'_

'These four tress have the residue an electrical signature. My guess is they wrapped the cords around them, and used the trees to anchor 009 to the same place on the ground.'

_'Are there any parts of these cords left?'_

'No,' he said crossly. 'They clean up after themselves, does Black Ghost.'

_'Good work, 007. Keep going, but be careful. Let us know your location as often as you can.'_

'Aye-aye, Roger Wilco,' said Britain. Francoise had said there were troops leaving to the east. If he hurried, he might be able to catch a transport to wherever Joe was being held. It would certainly be faster than winging his way there by seagull. Great Britain pressed his belly button, and with a _pop!_ flitted away on hummingbird's wings to find a friend in the enemy.

888888888

TBC


End file.
